twelve years and a lifetime ago
by kathleenfergie
Summary: "The last thing he expected to find when he climbed down from the helm was the whore pointing a weapon at him." Captain Hook meets Emma Swan in a tavern and decides that passing in the night isn't enough for him. Enchanted Forest AU.
1. PART ONE

okay so this diddy has taken me a real fucking long time to put together and i experienced so much writer's block and made a lot of playlists to get me through it. it's real fucking au, so see endnotes for a timeline on how my universe is working. i am either going to post this in two or three parts. i'll figure that out when i'm done writing the end (almost therrrre). rn it's about 30 pages on google docs in standard type. whoo.

but i hope you enjoy it bc i really liked the concept and i worked hard on it. eyyyy

own nothing. idgaf.

* * *

 **PART ONE**

* * *

The last thing he expected to find when he climbed down from the helm was the whore pointing a weapon at him, but there they were. In the captain's cabin, Killian at the end of his own sword. He remarked silently that this woman, with one of his shirts drowning her petite figure, could have easily passed as a pirate and not some poor barmaid from Tortuga.

The lass was a new addition to his favourite tavern, one he hadn't visited since before Neverland. After several lewd references concerning his hook, he practically dragged her back to the Roger, their laughter echoing across the harbour. She was bonnie and full of wit, and while Killian wasn't one for blondes, this woman held her rum quite well. She'd taken his offer readily, allowing the captain to carry her back to his ship.

Killian only minutely regretted kidnapping her, but as he often said to many, _pirate_.

"Come, love, such hostility? After last night?" He teased, hands raised as she sent him what sounded like a growl.

"My business transactions don't usually end on the open waters, captain," she spat. "Where the hell are we?"

Killian breathed a sigh of amusement as he moved toward the cabin's window, the sword following his every move. He didn't trust that she _wouldn't_ maim him, but the man was cocky enough to play the cards.

"We left Tortuga early this morning, love. I've business in the enchanted realms and plan to arrive there by autumn." He looked back at her, smirking. "It's high noon; you can join the crew for a meal if you'd like."

He still didn't know her name. Beyond the whole whore/barmaid part, he had no idea who she was, this seething golden beauty in front of him. Killian doubted he'd lose interest in her for quite some time, unlike any of the other women he'd employed.

"Turn her around and take me back to Tortuga or I'll kill you," she warned, causing a laugh in him. He faced her, closing the gap between them, the sword jabbing into his vest.

"Threats, love?" He mocked. "Despite your _entrancing_ fire, I doubt you'd last five minutes against my men."

"Try me, pirate."

Killian Jones was a very quick man; he had his hook around her calf before she could react, a sharp pull sending her body crashing to the floor. He had the sword out of her hold next, the pirate straddling her lithe frame. The lady was trapped and the blade now under her chin, Killian winking from above.

He brushed a strand of golden hair from her cheek with his hook, leaning down toward her.

"Shall I go on?" He drawled.

"Go to hell," she spit, teeth bared.

"Oh lass, you've no idea how familiar I am with hell," he told her, rolling his eyes. "Truth be told, not very exciting." Pressing the sword into the flesh of her neck, he straightened himself. "Now that we're in a more agreeable position, I think I'd like to know your name."

"You're mad if you think I'll tell you anything, bastard." Her tongue was starting to bore on his nerves, but her sea glass eyes had him distracted from his anger.

"I'm quite mad, milady," he laughed, pressing a small kiss to her lips. He leant further toward her, whispering in her ear. "You hold the sword quite well, darling."

She squirmed, turning her head away, but he only pressed the blade more firmly against her throat.

"Quite _obviously_ , a woman has to protect herself these days, Captain," she replied in a slightly strangled tone. "I learned from my landlord after I entered port six years ago."

He could spot her blatant lies, but she said them with such confidence that he could only play along.

"Of course, it's good for a woman of your, _ah_ , calibre, to be on the safe side." Killian flashed her a cheeky smile, earning an attractive glare. "How did you find yourself in such an establishment, all by your lonesome, love?"

She was silent for a moment, her hot gaze still on him, before she decided to answer.

"My parents were travelers from Agrabah. They died, in the Enchanted Forest, when I was young." A fleeting sadness crossed her eyes, leading Killian to believe the statement. "I saved funds until I was twenty-two and caught a vessel, hoping it would take me anywhere but that realm. I landed in Tortuga and worked to keep myself alive. You aren't the first pirate I've warmed, but you _are_ the first to kidnap me."

"Terribly sorry about that," he chuckled. "You weave a pretty tale, love. Not many people leave the Enchanted Forest. Born there, die there, so it goes."

"It wasn't my home," she replied quietly. "What now, captain? Shall you tell me your life story?"

"Oh, not sober, milady," Killian quipped. "Will you tell me your name?"

"Will you get off me if I do?" She asked, mimicking his tone. He smiled, nodding. "Emma Swan."

"Well then, Lady Swan, it's lovely to make your acquaintance." Killian tucked the sword away, stealing another quick kiss before standing. Looking down, he noticed her shirt had risen, the view of her legs tantalising. He held out a hand, smirking as she begrudging took his calloused palm in hers.

She straightened the loose shirt, crossing her arms over chest. Emma eyed her corset, flung to a corner during the previous night's revels. She'd have a rough time trying to find all of her clothing in the mess the two of them had made during their drunken brigade.

"When will you be returning me?" Emma asked, collecting said belongings.

"Swan," Killian began. "I would like to offer you a deal."

She'd been pulling on a wool stocking at his comment, and as she stretched the scratchy material across her thighs, Emma cocked a brow.

"We both know that I enjoyed your company last night," he laughed as Emma scoffed. "I'd like to offer you a deal."

She finished pulling on the other stocking as he spoke, forehead knitting together.

"Other women such as yourself have found themselves in this position. I'll pay a generous sum, provide you with clothing, meals, and the freedom to do as you please anytime we dock. In return, you warm my bed." Killian finished his proposal, leaning back against his desk, watching as Emma brought the loose shirt over her head, freckled backside exposed.

"I wasn't aware the famous Captain Hook carted around prostitutes," she goaded. "I've heard versions of your life story that would lead me to believe you a bachelor."

Emma covered herself with her chemise, pulling on the heavy dress she wore for the tavern.

"Yes, well you'd best keep those stories out of your head lass," Killian said, his mood darkened. It wasn't surprising that Tortuga was still swimming with rumours of his jaded past, but having it so lightly discussed wasn't something he was fond of. "If you decline the my offer, Emma Swan, I'll be leaving you at the next port to find your own way home."

Emma stood silent, minutes passing as she pulled at the tangled mess of corset strings, thinking about the proposal as she laced it.

"What are your terms, Captain?" She asked after some time, the grin returning to Killian's face.

"You're not to ask for raise in pay at anytime, you'll sleep each night in my cabin unless I say otherwise, and you'll do as I say when I say it. If not, I send you adrift." Emma rolled her eyes at the warning, but said nothing. "If the Roger is under attack you'll lock and bolt the cabin door and hide in the wardrobe trunk until I come fetch you.

"Whenever we dock, you'll be free to spend your money and time as you see fit. You'll not discuss our agreement with anyone you meet, but don't be afraid to spread tales of my gifts, love." He gave her a sultry look at she pulled the corset over her head. "You will not bring anyone back to my ship, and if you attempt mutiny I _will_ kill you."

Emma huffed, turning her back on him.

"Yeah, yeah. I keep my mouth shut and my legs open, I get it. How are you with corset strings?" Emma's crude language caught him off guard but made Killian chuckle as he moved toward her. He took the strings in his hand, knowing he was quite adept at one handed corset tying after all these years. "Am I allowed above or confined to the cabin?"

"So long as you aren't flirting with crewmen and cutting ropes, you're free to the deck," he replied, tugging firmly at each grommet. "Stay clear of crow's nest, though. Don't want an enemy spotting you up there, a lady in distress."

"Admirable," Emma noted, sighing.

Killian gave a sharp pull on her corset, Emma's back coming flush with his chest. "Pirate, love."

"I'll be sure to remember that."

* * *

Two weeks had passed since he'd taken Emma Swan from Tortuga, and while her acerbic personality was challenging some days, Killian enjoyed the wench's company. He'd done his best to coax details out of her, but she was amazingly tight lipped about her past. If Killian went too far with his queries, she asked her own rage-inducing questions.

Emma, ever the perceptive woman, who'd seen him unclothed more than once, had noticed the bold tattoo on his arm. She'd brought up one morning at breakfast that he'd said Milah's name in his sleep. While Killian was doing his damnedest not to become angry with the woman, it was becoming increasingly difficult.

Killian often ate dinner alone in his cabin, not one for the ruckus of the crew's chambers, but when there was a woman on board he was more inclined to share meals with her. The two were quietly swallowing their food, Emma scowling at her plate of fish. The sea hadn't offered the Roger many delicacies so far, and she had to force herself to eat every meal.

She almost missed the tavern, with its pebble-like bread and awful smell.

Tortuga had been Emma's home for six years now, her safe haven from the horrors she'd faced back in the Enchanted Forest. She regretted that she was unable to say goodbye to her landlord, a sweet old man who knew what to do with her belongings should she suddenly disappear. Being on the run since eighteen granted one such a life.

"We'll be docking in the morning, love," Killian spoke, the pet name rolling off his tongue. It was that or Swan, her last name called across the deck whenever he needed her. Emma merely called him Hook or _jackass_ , depending on her mood. "I'll thank you to wear a nice dress instead of my trousers."

Emma took a rough bite out of the roll in her hand, nodding in agreement. She'd taken to wearing breeches with a loose shirt tucked into it, her corset overtop. It was the most comfortable option aboard and Emma feared she'd topple into the water if she wore any of the heavy skirted dresses Hook offered.

"Will you plait my hair as well, Captain?" She asked, smirking as the man in question rolled his eyes.

"Do what you like with your hair, Swan, but the dress is required. There's several in the trunk that should suit you." Emma hummed, knowing the gowns to be quite fashionable, if she remembered correctly.

"What business do you have in town?"

"Supplies and errands, is all. When the crew finishes what needs to be done, they'll all crowd the local pub and drink it dry." Killian pushed his plate away, leaning back into his cushioned chair. "I'll give you your first payment and you can do as you please. There are bound to be several shops that would appeal to a woman."

"Of course," Emma sighed.

"See a tailor and have him make you a pair or two of your own breeches, I'm starting to run out now that you've commandeered them." The corner of his mouth quirked, telling Emma that he was teasing. "He could style them to your more... _feminine_ nature."

Emma snorted; she knew quite well that she wasn't the most proper woman, but she still had some honour and etiquette. Her parents had taught her enough about being a young woman in the world before they'd died, and her adolescence had given her more knowledge than she wanted.

The sea's climate was changing and while Emma knew they were nowhere close to Agrabah, the harbour would most likely be hotter than she was used to. She dreaded the idea of wearing a thick, decorated dress in such heat. Curious about the man's interest, she set her chin on a fist, pushing her locks out of the way.

"What colour do you favour?" Emma had half a mind that he'd answer black, what with all the dark leather he swathed himself in daily.

The question was unexpected, not many of the women he'd employed actually tried to know him and were merely short term investments. He'd beached a few after their first mistake, most interested in fame and riches.

"Ah, red. I've a crimson vest I keep for special occasions," Killian answered honestly. Emma gave him a small smile, abandoning her food. She pondered returning their plates, but knew Smee would come get them if she made the request. The blushing first mate was very easily swayed. "And you, lass?"

"It was white for a time, but that's a hard colour to wear when living in such a swampy place. Green matches my eyes and blue goes well with my hair," Emma recited what she knew about each colour and his mouth quirked again, the Captain amused. "Many of the barmaids wore red, so I never did. I stuck to brown, the cheapest colour."

"I see there is a lady in you after all, Swan," Killian quipped, earning a shake of Emma's head.

"Oh, Hook, you've no idea."

* * *

A cool draft swept past her as night fell, the Roger passing through the veil into the winter realms.

Emma's head was deep in the large trunk of clothing, articles tossed this way and that in hope of finding a thicker nightgown. Her original chemise was turning to rags from repeated use. Hook's rough hands were no help either, the captain ripping the fabric off her in his frequent drunken hazes. She'd repaired a good many seams in the past month.

Hook kept most of his clothes in a small wardrobe at the other end of the small cabin, filled with leather clothes, the aforementioned red vest, and several other fine articles. Emma investigated every inch of her living space after a few days aboard, curious about the man who had kidnapped her and then offered a business deal.

In the trunk that was now hers lay a dozen dresses of varying size and colour, the skirts creating a void of fabric. Emma was far too lazy to organize it all, the outfit she wore most often thrown at the top after each day's end. Her chemise was never far and her dress from the tavern always poked out the side.

Now that it was so cold that her limbs shook, she had nothing. The only end she was coming to was that she would have to pile on a few of the captain's billowy shirts, but he got cross when anything of his was damaged. Nevermind that it was usually by his own bloody hands.

Emma had been wearing one the last time they docked, reading one of the many books Hook kept, a blanket around her in the captain's chair. He'd come in blind drunk, almost collapsing at the bottom of the ladder before he pulled her to the bed. After ripping the front of the shirt open with his hook, he fucked her sloppily, leaving Emma tired and frustrated. The next morning he'd grumbled about the ruined shirt, throwing it to the floor before stomping up to the helm.

She'd accepted that this would be her life for some time, until she could raise enough sums to get her as far away from the Enchanted Forest as possible. Until then she was stuck in the captain's bed.

Emma had nearly dug to the bottom of the trunk before half of her body was inside it, finding no nightgown thicker than the one she already had. She contemplated sleeping in the trunk altogether, tossing the mess of stockings and gloves to the side in a moment of frustration.

Underneath the articles, she was surprised to find a burlap sack, neatly tucked away in the corner.

Sitting back on her heels, Emma pulled the bag from the bottom of the trunk, quickly shoving the heap of clothing she'd made back into the trunk. Standing, she brought the sack to the captain's desk, leaning against it as she investigated.

Pulling on the contents, her hands met the stiff fabric of what appeared to be a dark blue naval officer's jacket. It was decorated with gold thread, the epaulette fringe frayed and tangled. Emma knew it had to be old, the brass buttons lacking shine and the style outdated. Officers she'd seen as a young girl wore very different uniforms, the colours differing as well. Wrapped in the coat was a pair of white pants, a vest, and a simple button down, all yellowed with age.

It had been obvious to her upon first glance that the Roger was once a navy vessel, but Emma'd assumed Hook had merely commandeered it. There were small holes where pins once lay on the breast; medals of honour, she assumed. Emma wondered why the captain kept such an outfit, the man full of mysteries already.

"It was my brother's," a voice told her from behind. Emma turned her head to see Hook perched on the ladder. He climbed to the bottom, standing awkwardly at a distance. In the dim light of the cabin, Emma could see the sorrow in his eyes.

"I wasn't aware you had one," she responded quietly, replacing the uniform. Emma outstretched a hand and he took the sack, stowing it away in his wardrobe. "How did he die?"

Killian was silent a moment, his back facing her. It was no secret that this was a hard story to tell.

"Poison. Our king sent us on a mission to retrieve the plant that supplied it and my brother died for him." He chose not to add that it had been his fault. "The Roger, once the Jewel of the Realm, was the fastest ship in the navy until I made it a pirate vessel.

"I sent my brother to Davy Jones with his medals but kept his uniform. Thought I'd bring it to him one day, after all was said and done."

"I'm sorry," was Emma's small reply.

"It's been a very long time since then, love."

Despite the truth he spoke, Emma could see it still plagued him. An adopted child, she'd never had the pleasure of siblings; her parents were too old by the time Emma came around. She knew loss well enough to sympathize with him, though.

Killian shrugged the heavy jacket from his back, setting it on the chair's back, Emma watching his movements. Turning to the wardrobe again, he rifled through it before pulling what appeared to be a wool nightgown from its depths. Like she had the jacket, Killian handed it to her, waiting for the woman to take it.

"You'll be cold without it."

Emma donned the nightgown, keeping the chemise beneath it, as the wool would itch if she wore it alone. Thanking him, she fiddled with its sleeves, the thick yarn worn beneath her fingertips. Smoothing her fingers over it, she could tell it was handmade. You couldn't buy such a thing in a shop, not if the captain kept it tucked away in his own wardrobe. Not for the first time, Emma wondered about the full extent of the captain's past as she climbed into bed.

Killian stripped, unlocking the brace from his aching arm before throwing on a loose shirt. Settling next to Emma, he slipped his right hand over her middle, pulling her close for heat. He was used to cold nights alone on the Roger, but a warm body next to his always helped.

* * *

They kept their conversations light, neither wanting to focus on their history of sorrow. Emma tried not to dwell on the sadness that found his eyes more and more, the rum flowing faster as each day passed. His drunken stupors filled their cabin with cries for Milah and Liam. Emma was never the motherly type, but there was nothing she could do but comfort the captain on such occasions.

It was becoming a pattern, her arms around him in the dark of his cabin, the moon's light gleaming off the water, casting cool rays across his face. It always ended in quick fucks that tired him out, his deep sleeps giving her peace.

Emma knew he'd remember everything in the morning, but they never talked about it.

They docked in several ports, two months passing and her purse filling substantially. It's a hefty amount, but Emma knows it is not enough to get her back to Tortuga and passage somewhere else. It was doubtful the tavern missed her much, people disappearing all the time, but she'd been there long enough. The urge to run grew stronger each day.

"Tell me something, love," Killian asked her one night, flask in his ringed hand. He'd stumbled down the ladder and over to her, where she'd been settled in bed for a time. Docking let the alcohol flow more freely and she knew Hook's belly was not empty tonight.

"What would you like to know, Captain?" She responded, pulling the blankets around herself. He laughed before downing the rest of his liquor and throwing his jacket to the floor.

"Killian will do, love," he told her, flopping down onto the bed. He eyed her for a couple silent moments, his brow cocked. "You've told me nothing of yourself since Tortuga, Emma Swan. Who're you, really?"

"Everyone has their secrets," she shot back, too quickly. "Just because you own me at the moment doesn't mean I have anything to say."

"No, see, I can't quite figure you out, Swan," he ignored her, his hand coming to play with her blonde locks. "The childhood part is simple; traveling parents, died in the Enchanted Forest, left you all on your lonesome. What I don't understand is how a little girl like you survived all by yourself in such a land, with the Evil Queen killing people left and right."

Emma was silent for a moment, watching the man stare up at her with glazed eyes. He wasn't drunk enough that he'd pass out, but she wondered if he'd remember a punch to the face. It was a tempting thought she had often. She'd never told anyone her whole, real life story. It been twisted and glorified for so long by people who were supposed to be family that she never thought anyone deserved the truth.

"I was abandoned as a baby," Emma began. "My birth parents deserted me, and Jafar's scouts sent me away to Agrabah. He had been a tyrannous Sultan; people weren't allowed to breathe without fear of being questioned. The Swans, merchants, raised me as a tinker. We left Agrabah after Jafar's death; leaving the state while he was in power was impossible." She paused, a pain growing in her chest. "They died when I was eight, highwaymen attacked our carriage and took our horse. I was left to scavenge Sherwood Forest, alone."

"Truly a miracle, then, that you're alive, Swan," he commented, his eyes still focused on her intently.

"If it weren't for Robin Hood and his Merry Men," she laughed briefly at the title, "I'd be dead. They found me three weeks later, skin and bones, at the edge of their camp. They took me in; I was there until I was fourteen."

"What then?" He asked and Emma felt as if she were telling a toddler his bedtime story.

"I fell in love with a boy," she said sadly. "We ran away after he proposed."

Graham had been sweet on her since the moment they met, the butcher's son eyeing her in the market every now and then. Emma's role within Robin's camp had been the shopping, coming out from the woods to gather small supplies every now and then. Graham's brothers were all hunters, working under their father, but he was too small to hunt alone yet. Instead he stood guard on his father's shop while the man retrieved meats and pelts for customers.

Emma's smiles and soft greetings had earned her many free meals and walks back to camp, week after week. Graham taught her how to trap and clean animals, things she'd seen done by Robin's hunters but never learned. He'd been a kind friend for years, by her side constantly. He hung on her every word, and at fifteen, asked for her hand.

"Lass?" Killian brought his hand up to her face, stroking her strong jaw with a heavy hand. "The boy?"

"Dead," she whispered. "We were traveling through the Queen's forest, our first mistake, when we ran out of food. He killed a deer and was caught. We hadn't known that all of the Queen's animals were enchanted. I watched Regina rip out his heart from our hiding spot. Then they took his body away and I never saw him again."

Killian's eyes flashed with an emotion she couldn't figure out, his calloused palm rested lightly against her cheek.

"That was what made you leave?" He prodded her, thumb still moving against her skin, his eyes growing heavy.

"Yes, but the rest is a story for another day," she sighed, her hand clasping his. "You should sleep now, Hook."

"Killian," he told her again. "Call me Killian, please."

"Killian then," Emma laughed softly. "Sleep."

He did as she said, his head falling back onto the thin pillow. He'd left his brace on, and she knew he'd be sore by morning if he slept in it. Pulling the shirt from his chest, she took her time to examine the chains he wore around his neck.

The crucifix had always surprised her, but Emma wouldn't begrudge any man their gods. A silver band sat on one chain, another carrying a round pendant, the depiction of a mermaid on its small surface.

Killian didn't have many tattoos, setting him apart from many other pirate lords. She'd seen the bleeding heart on his arm many times, _Milah_ emblazoned across it. A compass rose sat over his heart, the last one an anchor on his bicep. Overtop it were deep red lines from the brace, the welts now one with him after what must have been years with the hook.

He hadn't told her the full extent of how he lost his hand, but she knew well enough what happened: fell in love with someone else's woman and the husband cut off his hand before killing her. Killian wouldn't tell her any particulars, but Emma knew that he'd spent many years seeking revenge.

Parts of Emma wanted to tell Killian about her life after Graham, about the three short years she had spent among her birth parents, but she didn't trust the pirate enough not to turn her in. The price on her was enough to make a man weep, let alone a pirate.

 _I'll do well to remember that,_ she'd said weeks ago, and she had stuck to it, but she'd been silent for eleven years. Emma didn't know if she could keep it inside any longer. She decided to sleep on her thoughts, hoping rest would give her answers.

* * *

 _"Granny," Emma called, hugging a knitted blanket around her thin shoulders. "Who's coming up the lane with Ruby?"_

 _Her new saviour was walking toward the front door of the cabin, two figures shrouded in cloaks behind her. Emma couldn't see anyone's face, but they seemed familiar somehow, their white cloaks luminescent amid the snow. Emma watched them draw closer through the thick panes of glass._

 _"Come away from the window now, child, you'll find out soon enough," the old widow told her, ushering her over to the small sitting area, a fire blazing. Granny's hands were shaking fiercely and Emma wondered what could make the strong woman so afraid. She watched as Granny went back to the door, opening it to usher her grandchild and party in. "Hang your cloaks, all, I've got a warm soup waiting and many a blanket."_

 _"Thank you, Granny," Ruby said cheerfully, shaking the cold wind from her bones. She discarded her winter cloak but kept the red one on, as she always did. "Come, Snow, she's just over here."_

 _Emma kept her eyes trained on Ruby, confused about the strangers behind her._

 _The woman had the darkest hair she'd ever seen, all of it tied back in an intricate braid, her pale face exposed. She had kind eyes and high cheeks, her lips very pink and pulled into a smile as she made eye contact with Emma. The man beside her was just as breathtaking, with golden hair and a strong jaw. He, too, had a peculiar look on his face, his blue gaze trained on Emma._

 _"Hello," the woman said wistfully, coming slowly to where Emma sat. "My name is Snow."_

 _"Emma," she replied, eyes flicking between the couple. "Emma Swan."_

 _"It's very nice to meet you, Emma."_

 _..._

 _"Ruby, where are we going?" Emma asked her companion as their carriage raced through the forest._

 _"To see a man who could help us defeat Regina," Ruby replied solemnly. She sighed, rubbing her gloved hands together. "As I'm sure Snow and David have explained, they plan to take back the kingdom from Regina, but our forces aren't strong enough against her dark magic."_

 _"We've dealt with this man before, and while it's questionable if he can be trusted, he's proposed a deal that could help us win," Ruby finished, her strong eyes trained on Emma._

 _"What deal?"_

 _"He's offered to teach you magic, as long as you marry his son."_

 _..._

 _She killed Regina the night of her wedding, her hands still swimming with magic hours later. The Evil Queen, who had a penchant for crashing such occasions, attempted to murder Snow once and for all, but Emma's light magic had saved the kingdom, just after saying, "I do."_

 _It had all been too much to believe, the young girl crumpled at the foot of the Evil Queen's body, a silent crowd of black knights gathering. They all dropped their swords and shucked their helmets, bowing before the crying princess._

 _Neal picked her small body from the floor, carrying her away from Regina's lifeless form, the revelry finally breaking out, all cheering Emma's name. She peered through her ruined hair to see them all yelling and thrusting fists into the air._

 _"Don't listen," Neal whispered, carrying her out the doors of his father's ballroom and to their chambers. Her fiance, now husband, had never hidden his disgust for the war that raged between the dark and light, considering especially his father's role. The sorcerer was on neither side, only enjoyed watching it all play out._

 _"I didn't want to kill her," Emma cried as they found their rooms._

 _"But you did, Emma. And now the war is over," he told her, setting her down. He took her small face in his hands. He was a few years older than she and often offered comfort like this. Graham had been a child like her, not a lover. "We can start our life now, I promise."_

 _Henry was born a year later, and Neal was dead._

"Emma!"

She woke to canonfire, the blasts ear-shattering. Killian was standing over her, shaking her awake. His eyes were crazed, his bare chest heaving as he yelled her name. She tried to touch him and push his hand off her, but he swore when her hand came in contact, leaving behind red flesh.

Emma realized after doing so that she had burned him, her hands alight with magic. She tried to hide them, quickly thrusting them under the blankets, but Killian grabbed one of her wrists. He yanked her hand into sight, face falling as he watched them crackle with years of unused magic.

"Swan," he said dumbly. "You've magic."

For the first time in many years, Emma began to cry.

* * *

 **END PART ONE**

* * *

this is _very_ au so i'll just sort of explain my timeline bc it's very different lol. the beginning of the verse is the same as in ouat, everybody's getting fucked over by regina, but instead of emma being sent through the wardrobe, she's given to ruby to hide. all this time agrabah has been taken over by jafar, and he kidnaps emma, not knowing who she is, and gives her to a random family.

emma lives and travels with the swans until she's eight, then they die and she joins robin hood's crew. at fourteen her and graham run away to be married, he dies a few weeks later. after that she escape's regina's forest and find's ruby and granny's cottage, where she stays until ruby figures out who she is. after that, she meets her parents, and trains with rumplestiltskin in private until she is strong enough to defeat regina.

on the night of her wedding to neal (after neverland he goes back to the enchanted forest, just assume rumple was able to save him), she kills regina. she's then pregnant with henry, and during that time there's another ogre war. neal goes off to fight and dies just before henry is born. emma gives birth at eighteen and runs away. she stows away on a cargo ship and travels, eventually settling in tortuga. six years later the fic begins.

i'll sort of outline the fic's events at the end of the next part if anyone is confused.

thanks for reading!


	2. PART TWO

heyo. welcome back.

okay so at this point emma's probably been on the roger like four/five months.

the ending has been really hard to write and i've considered rewriting the whole second half like eight times but i have trudged on through brain blockage. hope it doesn't suck lol.

do not own it.

* * *

 **PART TWO**

* * *

Days later, after the Royal Navy attacked the Roger, Emma found Killian at the helm, the waters foretelling a storm. He was drenched in seawater, droplets spraying over the side every so often. The old ship groaned with every hard wave, and Emma felt sick again.

It was the first night in her stay that she couldn't find her sea legs, the Roger causing her stomach to flop at every turn. Emma put a hand out to the railing, attempting to steady herself. The moon reflected off of her pale skin, causing it to take on a glow. It served only to remind her of the fate changing realization Hook had made several mornings ago.

Killian had not spoken to her since discovering her magic, barely casting a glance her way as he slept next to her each night. That morning he'd dragged her to the wardrobe trunk, threw her in, and locked her in the cabin before going to fight the Royal Navy's ship. It had been a small vessel, but the Roger had taken the brunt of the attack, the old girl groaning more and more as the storm hit it.

She'd helped Smee to patch a few holes in the hull yesterday, but the brig was still swimming with new fish everyday; it would be almost comicall if they could find the source of the leak. The boat rocked again, and Emma clutched her stomach, close to retching.

"It would be best for you not to be traipsing about my deck in such weather, Swan," Killian called, his voice hollow. The past few days he had been without his cheerful nature and rapscallion ways. Smee had said this was what he was like in the very beginning, after Milah's death, adding to Emma's grief.

"If the cabin wasn't so swampy I wouldn't need to come up for air so often," she told him, coming to his side, hands finding an edge to hold on to. Not for the first time, she traced the lines scratched into the wood in front of the helm. She peered out over the empty deck, all the hands below.

If the sea became too rough they'd all come up and Killian would no doubt lock her back up in the cabin. She'd spent the last few days there, distracting herself by rereading books and logs, staring out the window to watch water rush behind the ship. It would have been peaceful if there wasn't such a heavy atmosphere throughout the entire vessel. Emma had eaten a few meals with the crew and spent them silently observing the men as they gave her tired looks.

"Plus, I've read every book down there. Needed something to entertain me."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes toward her, a glimpse of his usual self peering through.

"Always happy to be of service, Lady Swan," Killian replied. He turned the wheel a couple notches, avoiding some particularly high waves. Emma wiped the spray from her face, locks sticking to the back of her neck. He flicked a glance her way again, eyeing her long hair. "Buy pins at our next port, love. It'll help with the humidity."

"Sherwood and the Enchanted Forest aren't particularly hot realms, not even in summer. I'll survive them. Once the storm breaks I'm sure the heat will disperse." In any case, Emma hated pinning her hair up. It was far too much effort just to have her curls slip out minutes later. She had always marveled at the ways some of her handmaids had been able to style her hair, the golden strands staying put for hours on end. Emma could tell that Killian wished to comment on her stubbornness, but he kept his tongue quiet, for once.

"Buy summer clothes, anyway," he commanded softly. "We'll be traveling through the Enchanted Forest, not just its waters."

The two were silent for a time after that, Emma watching Killian steer, steadying herself every time the Roger was thrown to the side. Another spray caught her and Emma shivered, her sick body unhappy with the conditions. Killian's loose shirts were comfortable but thin, and while the air was hot, the sea was never anything but cold. Killian sighed, motioning for her to hold the wheel as he removed his jacket, placing it on Emma's wet shoulders.

He came to stand behind her, her body trapped between him and the wheel. Taking it from her hands, Killian let his rest on a notch, the hook snaked around her middle to keep her upright. Emma leant into him slightly, the closeness comforting. She sighed, missing the dynamic of their relationship before her magic had shown itself.

"I haven't performed magic in a decade," Emma said quietly, following her train of thought. "I don't like it."

"Aye," was his rough response, sounding as if he wasn't particularly interested.

"My parents, birth parents, they weren't magicians. I was special, though, because I was born as a vessel of pure love. People talked _on_ and on about their love, how it was the most beautiful, magical kind." Emma felt as if she were reciting an age old fairy tale; the words sounded ridiculous coming from her own lips. "I was born out of true love, and my destiny, at one time, was that I would be the most powerful sorceress in the realm. With the Evil Queen reigning, I could hardly believe such things."

The ship turned as Killian pondered her words.

"Milah died because of magic. I vowed to never allow it into my life after she was gone." She could hear his jaw clench, the man's throat closing on his words with sadness. He laughed to himself, then. "I never thought that a barmaid I bedded would wield it."

"Everybody has their secrets, Killian," she replied quietly, feeling almost guilty.

"Quite," he responded quickly, chuckling sadly. "Who're your parents, then?"

Emma hesitated, wringing her hands as she thought on her answer.

"Snow White and Prince Charming," she told him, bracing for his reaction. Killian let go of the helm and forced her to face him, eyes alight suddenly.

"You're the lost princess of the _bloody_ Enchanted Forest?!" He cried, hand tightening against her arm. She gave him a sheepish look, shrugging. "You killed the Evil Queen. I've seen your face on countless posters, but I didn't recognize you back in Tortuga."

"I'm not eighteen anymore, Killian, I _have_ changed," she bit back defensively.

"Evidently, Swan," he barked. The captain froze then, realization showing on his face. "You married the Dark One's son. You married Bae."

"Yes, I did," she whispered, tears coming to her eyes. He let go of her and backed away, face littered with shock.

"I want you off my ship," he growled.

* * *

Weeks later they passed traveled the veil into Sherwood Forest. Late into the night, a storm passing over them, the two lay in the Captain's bed, Killian's arm thrown across her middle. It was the first night since she told him the truth that he'd touched her, their bodies naked and slick with fresh sweat. He was usually asleep first, his breath evening out into an open mouthed snore, but Emma could sense that Killian's mind was clouded with thoughts. The metal of his rings was cold against her stomach, his hand rubbing her skin.

"You'll bore a hole in the deck if you think any harder, Killian," Emma remarked sleepily, turning to find the pirate already looking at her. The moon cast a dim light in the cabin, the water sending beams of light across them every so often. The deep blue of his eyes stood out against his dark features and Emma could see the sadness in them, piercing through her.

"The deck's taken worse torture from me, I assure you, love." He traced the lines of her bare chest, fingers curving up and down her breasts as he shifted onto his side, his face above hers now. His gaze followed his hand, the blue leaving green.

Despite being quite a gentleman, he'd never been soft like this, treating her as a lover would instead of a master. He'd been so angry with her recently that anytime they crossed paths he treated her as if she were diseased.

"I stole her," he whispered, leaning down to pepper kisses along her shoulder. "I took her away from her coward husband and infant son. I wanted to make her my pirate queen."

"Milah," Emma said, not so much a question as an affirmation.

"Aye, Milah," he sighed, his stubble against her collarbone. She briefly wondered if he was very drunk, but she could smell no rum. "She cried for so long that I almost took her back."

"But you didn't?"

"No. _'I'll never go back, Killian,'_ she said. Everyday, she looked out into the sea and told me she'd never return to them. Not even the boy. Bae," there was a strain in his voice, hand shaking against her warm skin. "And then the crocodile came and she died." He bit down softly on her neck, his sharp teeth dragging patterns.

"Rumplestiltskin?" She asked, simply. When he'd figured out who her husband was, he'd been so upset, and Emma had put the pieces together. Trying to find out from the crew was futile, they'd never give up the man's secrets, especially when he was angry with her.

"He was a mere soldier with a limp when I first met him," he said, his hand coming to cup her face. "And then he ripped out her heart and took my hand. No one ever loved me like she did and I held her as she died. I've spent three hundred years imagining his death, unable to do anything but sail the realms."

He told her about Neverland shortly after Emma had discovered Liam's uniform, and so she didn't comment on his prolonged age, though the number had been a mystery to her. Her mind raced as Killian's lips traced a path along her skin, his hot breath tickling her jaw.

"Is that what your business in the Enchanted Forest is?" She asked, shivering slightly.

"I've avoided that land like a coward for very long, Swan," he almost laughed, face coming to rest in the curve of her neck. "I've never been strong enough to fight him; I doubt I'll ever be."

"He's just a man," she told him, setting her hand against his head, his dark tufts stark against her pale fingers. "Every man must die eventually."

"Aye, Swan, so it seems."

They grew silent for a very long time, Emma's eyes hazy. She could hear the wind rushing against the sides of the Roger, the water battling for command. She removed her hand from his hair, her palm taking his from her face. As she grabbed his rough fingers, the hand turned and held hers fiercely. Confused, Emma let him hold her in his vice grip.

He pressed another soft kiss against her neck and Emma swore she could feel wet tears on his face.

"Stay with me, Emma," he whispered.

"You don't love me, Killian," she replied sadly. The statement had to be true, the pair had only known each other a few months, their entire relationship based on Emma's prowess in bed. "I won't pretend to love you."

"Stay," Killian repeated, resting their hands against her heart.

* * *

The Enchanted Forest had more or less stayed the same since Emma had stowed away on a cargo ship eleven years ago. It was still very green and each vast lake they came upon was beautiful. It would never be home for Emma, but it would always be breathtaking. There had been days back in Tortuga where she'd missed her life in Sherwood Forest, but that was a very different place and a very different time.

Sherwood was much more mundane than her parents' land. The trees didn't speak to you quite as much, and while the Sheriffs were annoyed by all the thief guilds, they let them be. Emma remembered Graham asking her about Robin and his men, his eyes alight with wonder. Robin had been an uncle of sorts, she'd never seen him as the golden hero everyone else did, so talking about him as if he were some war hero felt strange on her tongue.

Emma wondered briefly how Roland was doing, the small boy always on her heels in her youth.

"Milady," Killian whispered, taking her arm. She smirked at him, the hood she wore hiding a good portion of her face. Her features had changed over the years, but there was bound to be someone who would recognize her. Emma placed her hand over his fake, the wooden stand in his own disguise.

Ever since the night he told her about Milah, Killian's mood had turned around, the pirate no longer keeping his word about banishing her from the Roger. He'd been sweet and rather attentive, something she'd never expect from the man. Emma wouldn't question it, though, it would do her no good. Part of her wanted to believe he was acting this way only to disguise the pain he felt.

"Where are we going, Captain?" She asked, Killian's arm leading her through a well worn path in the forest, away from the tavern his men were drinking dry. It all looked the same to her, but she could tell this was a more rural part of the realm, her parent's grand castle closer to the mountains. She remembered looking down over the treetops and vast lakes from her bedroom window, wondering where all of it would take her.

"There was something I wanted to show you," was all Killian said, his lips quirking at the edges.

They walked for quite a time, both as silent as the trees. Emma could hear many birds singing and a leaf crunched under her boot every now and then, but it was a relatively peaceful walk. Her skirt was too long and dragged along the dirt path, but she blamed Killian for requesting the outfit, the burgundy day dress a stark contrast to her pale hair. It also required a different type of corset, her breasts practically pushed up to her chin.

They stopped their trek after what seemed like an hour, Killian pulling her into a secluded place. Emma tried to speak, but he hushed her, pulling a few brambles to the side. He motioned her to look on with a flick of his head.

Emma peered through the shrubbery, the smoke of a previous night's fire greeting her nose. There were two men milling about; a large one with curly hair and what looked like a young hunter. She recognized his attire as the outfit Graham and his brothers used to wear. They spoke softly to each other, backs turned as another form entered the small camp. As he set down his quiver and bow, Emma gasped softly in surprise, sending a glance toward Killian.

"Robin," she said softly, watching as he clapped the young man on the back.

The crinkles next to his eyes deepened as he smiled, reminding Emma of the kind man she'd met twenty years ago, her insides warming as memories popped into her mind. He was much older, but the last fourteen years had been kind to him. Emma pulled the branch back even more to get a better look at who she recognized as Little John (who, after all this time, still wasn't very little) and the teenager she didn't know. Distracted, she didn't realize that the branch snapped, the sound echoing loudly through the quiet forest.

The men turned, all reaching for their weapons, but Killian put his hands up.

"Apologies, lads. The lady was stuck in a bramble," he called out, pulling Emma out from the shadows.

"No need," Robin replied, hand still on his sword as the pair approached. Emma pulled her hood tighter around her face. "Robin of Locksley."

Killian extended his good hand and they shook, the pirate all charm in front of the bandit. Emma cursed her clumsy ways, holding onto Killian's arm tightly. She knew Robin wouldn't betray her to the crown, but it was a risk to reveal herself to anyone from her old life. Word spread far too quickly here, somebody always watching.

"Ah, a pleasure. What are you doing so far from Sherwood Forest?" Killian carried on the conversation as if he and Robin had been friends for decades. Little John rolled his eyes, moving to stamp out the remains of the fire.

Emma looked closer at the youngest of the trio, her pirate companion still speaking, her eyes tracing his dark, olive coloured skin and high cheeks. His thick brown hair formed into ringlets right from the scalp, the curls falling onto his face as he looked between Robin and Killian. He smirked slightly at something Robin remarked, deep dimples showing beside his mouth. She couldn't place his face, the familiarity of his features maddening. As she weighed all the options, she noticed Killian introducing her, his hand sweeping to her form. Emma dipped her head and smiled at the pair, maintaining little eye contact.

"Pleasure, milady," they said in almost perfect unison, causing a laugh from Emma. There was a twinkle in Robin's eye, the older man grinning as he waved a hand toward Little John, who was stomping around on the coals. The large man grunted and Emma smiled.

"And this would be my son, Roland. It's his first adventure into the Enchanted Forest and I doubt he'll forget meeting such a famous pirate captain as yourself." Robin continued to grin, Roland's face reddening as he ran a hand through his curls nervously.

Emma gasped to herself, staring straight at him. Her last memory of Roland was an eight year old boy chasing after her and Graham as she left Robin's camp for the last time. All three men turned to stare at her, Killian cocking a brow.

"Milady?" Roland stuttered, blushing further.

Emma removed her hood, all thoughts of caution in the wind as her locks spilled onto her shoulders. Roland seemed even more flustered as he stared at such a beautiful woman, Killian attempting to hold back a laugh.

"Last I saw you, Roland, there was a field mouse in your pocket and a knitted cap on your curly head," she told him, smiling. He looked quite confused, but Robin let out a boisterous laugh, clapping his son on the back as he had earlier. He came forward, taking Emma's face in his warm hands.

"Well now, there's a face I knew I hadn't forgotten," he whispered, his fatherly gaze causing Emma's eyes to grow wet. "Graham?"

"Regina," she said simply, her heart heavy. The image of the queen crushing Graham's heart raced through her mind, but she cast it out quickly. "Weeks after we left. I'm sure you know the rest."

"Aye, Emma, but it was quite a shock to know my market maid and Roland's nanny had been a princess all along," he replied in amusement. "I'm sorry about the boy."

"As am I, but it's in the past," she said, her voice soft.

"Now, how about you and your pirate come have a drink with us. You can tell me all about why your face is all over the trees," Robin teased, thumbing her cheeks and pressing a kiss to her forehead. She smiled, blinking away her tears before turning her head to Killian, who was looking fondly at her.

"Of course," he said.

* * *

They stayed the night in the tavern, its accommodations mundane and bare but warm enough. Its walls were thinner than that of the Roger's, and she could hear various inhabitants snoring. If Smee and the majority of the crew weren't back at the ship she'd think it was them creating the ruckus.

Killian slept soundly beside her, his breath heavy and body in the midst of a deep sleep. She'd had trouble disentangling herself from him, grabbing an extra blanket the matron had put aside. Wrapping it around her shoulders, Emma slipped on her boots, quietly padding her way down the stairs. It was dark, the tavern having closed many hours ago, but there were puddles of moonlight every so often.

She waded through the dark, one hand gripping wood and the other keeping the thick blanket around her form. Emma spotted the figure of a candle on the bar, the wax pool sticking it to the counter. She planted herself on a stool and stared at it, indecisive.

She could have easily found matches and lit it, but she was tempted to try out her magic after all these years. Emma reckoned that if she could kill a powerful sorceress at sixteen she could light a candle at twenty nine.

Closing her eyes, Emma concentrated, her hands gripping the rough wood beside the candle. She thought of the first charm Rumplestiltskin had taught her all those years ago and there was a soft puff as a flame came to life. She cracked open one eye, looking into the orange light as it cast an ominous glow on the empty tavern.

"Exceptional, dearie," came a voice from the darkness.

Emma turned on her stool and stood, the blanket drooped, her hands shooting out defensively.

"Ah, ah, Emma. No need for such dramatics," Rumplestiltskin's distinctive tone drawled, the small but powerful sorcerer coming forward. With a wave of his hand, all the candles lit, the bright light shocking Emma's eyes. She squinted, blinking away the pain as Rumple dragged a scraggly fingernail against a tabletop. "Been a long time since I've felt your presence in our land, dearie."

Emma said nothing, her hands coming to clutch the blanket so that she could keep from shaking. Rumple closed the gap between them, he beady eyes staring her down. She hadn't missed the sight of his ugly and terrifying face, Emma suddenly wishing she was back in her bed in Tortuga, the past few months a dream.

"I find it amusing that you choose now to be demure and silent, Emma," he chuckled, pleased that he had her speechless. "My, how you've grown all this time. No longer the scared little princess with the Evil Queen's heart in her hands."

He reached out and twirled one of her locks around his fingers.

"They say hair the colour of straw makes the finest gold." Emma blinked as she forced herself not to withdraw from him. "Everyone's missed you so _terribl_ y, my dear. Poor Henry's never understood why his mother left him."

"I was a child," she gasped, her words caught in her throat. "I was no more fit to be a mother than any of the scullery maids."

"Your parents accepted my deal on the condition that I leave your first born well enough alone. You're lucky I didn't snatch up your boy the second you stepped onto that cargo ship, princess," he snarled, his hand moving quickly to grab her chin, squeezing her face in his palm. "Especially after what happened to my son."

"You cannot blame me for Neal's death," she spit through gritted teeth, her jaw constricted. "Blame Regina for recruiting the ogres, or my parents for going to war with them, but keep me out of it."

"He went to protect you and your _ilk_. Bae died for you!" Rumplestiltskin growled, his stained teeth bared. "Just as she died for her pirate."

She knew he spoke of Milah, Emma's mind on fire with thoughts of Neal. He'd died just days before Henry's birth, his body delivered by carriage from the front. The bastard had gone to war to prove himself to her father, the king wary of the Dark One's son, and he'd died at the hands of an ogre mere weeks into the war.

David had escaped that war with little wounds, but many scars and nightmares. When Emma had gone, he'd been a very tired man. She'd watched her birth mother run the kingdom while he fought and couldn't bear the thought of doing that all on her own, waiting for her king to come home while she lied through her teeth about hope to all her subjects.

"Love is weakness," Emma mocked him, reminding him of the words he always used to say, taunting her parents' wistful looks and sweet kisses. She'd never understood why he used the phrase so often when it was obvious that he loved Baelfire so deeply. "And it causes people their lives, Rumple. I did not ask your son to love me, do not condemn me for loving him, too."

"Love," he sneered. "Is that what you feel for that worthless pirate up in bed? Do you think that when he plants himself inside you that he feels _love_?"

Emma attempted to tug free of his grip, but his scaly hands began to glow, magic keeping her in place.

"It wasn't part of the job description, so I don't expect it," Emma whispered. "Killian loved Milah, Rumple. He loved her more than you could ever understand."

The sorcerer's face lit up with rage at her comment, throwing Emma across the room. Emma gasped, her figure hitting several tables and the wall hard, the wind forced out of her chest.

"Either you come home or his crew dies, dearie," Rumplestiltskin warned, vanishing as footsteps sounded at the other end of the tavern.

Emma's face was against the floorboards, her hand clutching her side as the pain rippled through her body, a table collapsed against her. She heard Killian call her name out, his boots thunderclaps against the wood.

He pushed tables and chairs out of his path, kneeling beside her. He tucked his sword away before lifting her to lean against him, looking around wildly for the culprit as Emma groaned. Killian pressed his hand to her side gingerly and checked the rest of her for injury.

"Emma, love, what happened?" He asked, voice stricken, fingers brushing her hair back. He caressed her cheek with his palm, his knees supporting her slumped body. Emma didn't even miss a beat as she lied to him, not wanting to tell him about Rumplestiltskin's visit.

"The Royal Navy came through," she told him, eyes heavy. Emma could tell she had a concussion and that she'd be covered in bruises by morning. "An officer saw the light and came in; he attacked me but left when he heard you coming. They have the crew, Killian."

* * *

Riding a horse with broken ribs was a hassle, but Emma endured the pain as her steed galloped down the royal highway, the horse traveling to her parents' castle. It was a long journey, Emma leaving hastily after finding Killian and all his belongings gone from the tavern.

She woke to the matron's kind face and a cold compress, a pounding in her head unlike anything she'd experienced. The woman had bandaged up her bruises and scrapes with salves and gauze, soaking her scalp in cool water for her concussion, before giving Emma the news that her pirate had left after seeing she was taken care of.

Despite the old woman's protests, Emma dressed and bought a horse from them, with strict directions leading her to the royal road. She'd been riding since noon, the afternoon sun dipping lower and lower toward the treeline.

She wasn't planning on traipsing right through the front door, as that would only create a scene and she'd have less of a chance of helping Killian rescue his crew and run. When Emma fled the castle at eighteen, she'd taken a passage from the dungeons that lead to an underground lake. Neal had spent a great deal of time showing her all the secrets of her parents' castle. When his father had been in line with the Evil Queen he'd visited the place often enough.

The cavern had a small tunnel that opened into a gorgeous waterfall, blocking it from ordinary sight. Gorgeous, but cold, if Emma remembered correctly. It wasn't far from the road, where she'd walked in disguise through the night to the harbour. Her family's money bought her passage to Sherwood Forest, where she stayed for weeks. She'd lived sporadically for a number of years, working for families in villages along the way to keep her purse heavy.

Emma had been recognized at a market in Agrabah by a lawman passing through and with a lot of running and hard work to keep herself underground, she made it out safely with no trail.

The random captain she'd paid had escorted her to Tortuga, the place where people were forgotten, and she stayed put. It had been a quiet, relatively peaceful life until Hook had come and caught her eye. It wasn't her fault she had taste or that he was willing to pay for a night of fun. What she will blame herself for was staying the night, something she rarely did. Ultimately, it was what got her kidnapped by the illustrious pirate and back in royal lands.

Emma told herself many times over the years that she was bound to end up there again, sooner or later. Now that the time was upon her, however, she felt nervous. Her parents had been kind and loved her deeply, but it wasn't the life she had wanted or prepared for. The girl who worked her way across the realms felt right, not the gentle princess in a sparkling dress.

If she could get Killian and his crew out without reuniting with her family, well, that would be an unexpected gift. She'd figure out how to avoid Rumplestiltskin along the way.

Emma began to recognize where the horse was taking her, the tree markings still there many years later. She pulled her hood up, noticing the frequency of her face on posters as she came closer and closer to the castle.

At the right marking, she veered left into the tree line, finding the path quickly. She slowed the horse, not wanting to be discovered by knights or random dwellers. Emma swept her gaze repeatedly, searching the area around her. When she finally broke into the lake's clearing, she tied the horse off at a tree that surrounded by a thick patch of grass.

Patting the steed's face, she thanked it and began to strip down to her corset and shift, knowing the dress would only weigh her down. The matron had included a pack of food on the saddle and Emma ate it quickly, folding her clothes and stuffing them into it.

She knew the lake wasn't deep; as a teenager it had only come to her chest, but Emma thought she'd rather not drown in her skirts. She tied her boots to the pack, lifting it above her head and she padded into the frigid water. Sucking in a breath, Emma fought the cold chill that shocked her skin, walking toward the spray of the waterfall.

The lake sat under her breasts, soaking her shift and weighing her corset down, the sand and rocks squelching between her toes as she waded toward the falls, searching for a clear parting to walk through.

Emma lowered the pack, letting her hair take the brunt of the water's force. Passing through them, she bent her head over the pack, attempting to keep her clothes and boots as dry as possible. The light died away as she broke the other side, the crash of water echoing through the cavern.

She brushed her wet hair back, her shift thoroughly soaked.

Emma sighed, her teeth clattering as she made her way through the tunnel, waving her a hand slightly to light her path, an orb following her movements. It looked relatively the same since she'd last saw it, all dark stone and dripping water. It wasn't too long a walk to the other side, the sand giving way to pebbles and a few sharp rocks that Emma's heels complained against.

"Those pirates better appreciate this," she hissed to herself, breaching the walls of her own damn castle.

Emma exited the lake quickly, the damp air that clung to the stones chilling her further. She shook herself off as best she could, pulling her clothes out of her pack, donning her stockings and dress. Her feet protested as she pulled her boots on, but Emma knew she would just have to deal with the pain.

She walked the short distance to the passage's entrance, where a stone staircase met her, taking her up to the dungeons. As she neared the top, she could hear voices shouting, which she assumed to be the crew. They were most likely making the guards' lives a living hell, which made her smirk.

Leave it to doomed pirates to make the best of a bad situation.

Emma crept through the back exit of the dungeons, extinguishing her magic as the sight of torches flickered throughout the stone tunnel. The noise grew louder, echoing back and forth. She pressed her body tight against the wall, creeping toward the light.

Stretching her head around a the bend, Emma couldn't see any guards in front of the cells. All but the main cell was empty, the entire crew shaking bars and growling like animals. She'd seen them fight before but never riot. It was almost amusing. She noticed Smee at the forefront, the shy man silent despite the revelry.

Emma walked as quietly as possible toward their cell, a finger to her lips. Some turned their heads but most continued making noise.

"I need a knife," she hissed to nobody in particular.

One of the cooks handed her quite a large hunting knife and she smiled in thanks.

"What if there's two guards, miladay?" Smee asked nervously, pulling his hat off to wring it between his fists.

"Well, I've got breasts, haven't I?"

* * *

 **END PART TWO**


	3. PART THREE

eyyyy part three. the prodigal daughter returns. decided to split it up into three chapters instead of two bc if i tried to do the ending all in one it would be awful. hope you enjoy and that you don't think it sucks after waiting this long lol. i've been really sad and unmotivated (and i've been quite physically sick, too) so no writing time. plus i procrastinated this by writing another finale oneshot. it's good.

oh yeah i totally stole the dress from the s3 finale for this btw bc idgaf and honestly it's a great dress

don't own shit.

* * *

 **PART THREE**

* * *

She hated them all, bloody fucking pirates. Always had to start a fight and get as dirty as possible. It was their fault, Emma surmised, that she was back in her old chambers, the burgundy dress sticking out against all the royal decor. The knife was still clutched in her hand and her hair damp, scalp itching.

Standing in the middle of what had been her and Neal's chambers, she noticed the thick layer of dust that covered everything, the drawn curtains adding light to the dance of disturbed particules. Henry's bassinet was gone, no doubt moved after her disappearance and discarded when he grew. Emma's chest tightened at the thought of her son, who was still nowhere to be seen.

She didn't know if she could handle meeting the boy, if he would shun or love her. Part of Emma hoped for the former, it was what she deserved. She'd thought of her explanation a million times since leaving eleven years ago: she'd gone to give Henry his best chance and to give Snow and David the opportunity to raise a child. She wondered briefly if Henry even thought of her as his mother or just the woman who abandoned him.

Emma didn't want to know, not really, not after all these years trying to forget.

Snow and David had said very little after the guards dragged Emma in front of the pair, the royals recognizing their daughter almost instantly. There had been a storm of voices and questions, most unanswered, and a lot of crying from all parties. It was too overwhelming, her parents crowding her and pulling Emma into their arms. They had thought she was dead all these years, Rumpelstiltskin spinning a tale that she'd been kidnapped in the middle of the night by thieves. Emma didn't let them believe otherwise, but she assumed Rumple would ruin her with the truth soon enough. Ever one for the dramatics, he was.

Emma made her way tentatively to the vanity, the knife clattering out of her hand and onto its once shiny counter. It was like looking into a dream, her room. Eery and quiet, it was full of shadows and forgotten things. There were fingerprints in the dust every so often, evidence of someone's grief. Emma imagined Snow would have someone in there to freshen the place up, make it liveable again.

" _To welcome you home_ ," the queen had said.

Emma hadn't spoken a word, just let her parents and their entourage guide her through the castle, stunned maids and pages pausing as the group passed. It was ridiculous, but very much like the people she'd once known. She missed the Roger already, the captured vessel chained to her father's docks.

Killian had yet to make himself known, though she was sure any rescue mission he planned would go infinitely better than hers, what with the guards and the crew waging war in the dungeon. It had to be over by now, Smee back in the cell wringing his hat out while the rest of them muttered obscenities about the crown. Despite knowing she'd probably never make a good pirate, Emma wanted desperately to be back on the Roger's deck, watching them all swagger about, manning stations.S he wished with all her heart to be back in that cabin bed, Milah's nightgown keeping her warm. She even missed the godawful bread; anything she was to eat in the palace would be a delicacy compared to the ship's food.

"You know you can touch things, Emma," a distinctive voice teased from the doorway. "They _are_ yours."

She turned to find her Aunt Ruby, elegant dress, cloak, and all in her door, smiling kindly. She looked the same, twelve years digging smile lines and delicate crow's feet into her face. Emma thought she was still as breathtaking as that day they had met in the woods, scared little Emma chasing after winter hares.

"Doesn't feel like it," Emma responded weakly, tracing a timid hand across her jewelry box. "Feels like a ghost lives here."

Emma sighed, sitting on the small stool to stare at her reflection. It had been a very long time since she'd looked in a mirror and her reflection left her with an uncomfortable lump in her throat.

Ruby came forward, stepping in behind Emma and set her hands in the blonde's tangled mane, tsking. Her aunt picked up the gilded hairbrush, blew the dust off it, and began to smooth out Emma's hair. She laughed softly at her niece, who winced as she pulled apart clumps with her long fingers.

Emma watched her do so, the act reminding her of the days she had spent here as a teenager. Ruby had been the only person in the entire castle she had truly loved from the start, her kindness and fierce protectiveness giving Emma a sense of normalcy.

"You're leagues more beautiful than the day I found you," she praised gently, a wistful look on her face. Emma gave her a small, sad smile. "I'm a wolf, Emma, not a mind reader. Where have you been?"

"The past twelve years or last five months?" She replied smartly, earning an eyeroll. "Everywhere. Sherwood, Agrabah, Arendelle, Tortuga, The Land Without Colour. I skipped Oz, Neverland, and Wonderland, they all seemed too risky. I never made it to Camelot, that was far too expensive of a trip. I settled in Tortuga, it was nice there, if a bit gloomy.

"I met so many people," she added softly.

Ruby let out a heavy breath, her hands sectioning hair to braid. She was quite adept at fixing all the intricate styles the land sported; Emma had so much hair these days that she'd no idea how Ruby was going to wrangle it all into a style fit for a princess. She hoped she didn't have to wear her circlet, the diamond band addressing her status everywhere she went.

"Snow thought you were dead," Ruby whispered. Emma glanced up, finding the brunette's eyes wet. "So did I, after so many years went by without anyone spotting you."

"Please understand how trapped I felt here, Ruby," Emma pleaded. "I lost everything I thought I was when I came here. In the span of three years I lost the love of my life, killed a powerful sorceress, married, had...a son, and was expected to be the perfect princess. I wanted to _die,_ and nobody understood."

"Rumple's controlled David and Snow's every move for years. They've lived in this fantasy, thinking you were dead and still out there at the same time. It's been hard, without Granny here to whip everyone into shape." Ruby shook the thoughts from her head, patting Emma's shoulder as she placed the final pin in her hair. "Come, let's get you into something nice for dinner."

Emma laughed weakly at the seamless change of subject, standing to follow her aunt to the wardrobe.

* * *

"They cannot be serious," Emma hissed, stalking through the hall that led to her chambers, Ruby hot on her heels. Her mother had attempted to follow, but David held her back, knowing Emma's temper well enough. "A _festival_? How the hell is that going to fix anything?"

The king and queen, mad as they were, had planned a festival to celebrate Emma's return, complete with a royal ball and the death of Killian's crew. No doubt it was all prompted by Rumple, who'd been missing from the meal, thankfully. That devil was always looking for ways to play with and annoy others. He probably had Killian's execution lined up for the finale, a riot in the streets to follow.

It was all very frustrating and too much to handle, a feeling that was typical of her parents' realm. Emma missed the calm atmosphere of Killian's cabin, the sea rocking away her sorrows. If he wasn't going to come for his crew, he had better kidnap her again, she thought with some mirth. Emma didn't think she could take living the rest of her days back in the Enchanted Forest; its chaos was very much unwanted.

"What did you expect? Tea with the royals beside the fire?" Ruby sighed, following Emma into her room. The princess began stripping off her dress and jewels, tugging free all of Ruby's strategically placed pins.

"I don't even remember how to fucking waltz," she muttered bitterly, tossing everything onto the vanity.

"I'm sure your father will fix that," her aunt laughed.

Emma gave her an annoyed look as she pulled on a robe to cover her corset and shift. Her peasant wool stockings had been replaced by pantaloons and white tights; it was far too many layers and felt very foreign, the smooth fabric brushing against her skin. She kept her hair in its braid, letting it fall onto her shoulder.

Ruby left her to pace, the younger woman crossing her arms and thinking deeply about what her parents planned. While she felt guilty knowing that she had left her parents to be controlled by Rumple for so many years, she wasn't too keen on continuing to play their happy little princess. Three pampered years weren't going to change the orphan she knew in her bones.

Emma walked back and forth across the room for what felt like hours, finally flopping down onto her bed when the moon was high. She finally felt the castle settle, the hum of workers gone. A maid came in eventually to light her a fire, for which she was grateful, a slight grunt signaling her thanks. The glow cast flickers against the gilded ceiling and Emma stared at it through the veils of her canopy, the orange catching on gold and blue, reminding her of sunsets at sea, of the pirate she cannot find.

She sighed, turning to face the window. The sky had felt so big on the Roger's deck, and it was wrong to see it contained in a window pane. She closed her eyes, letting the cool breeze that wafted in to take her back to her ship.

"I like looking at the sky, too," came a small, hushed voice from the shadows. Emma bolted upright at the sound. "Grandma told me a story about an evil man who used to steal away boys and fly through the stars. She never lets me keep my window open."

"Peter Pan," Emma responded quietly, still looking for a face. She hadn't heard the door open, surmising that he mastered all of the trick passages in the castle as she did. It was comforting, knowing he was as mischievous as both her and Neal.

Eventually, a form materialized through the black of her room, the fire lighting up her son's features. He was exactly what he should look like: a copy of Neal, except with her high cheeks and small lips. He'd been very small the last time she'd seen him, wiggling in his cradle as Emma gave him a kiss goodbye.

The boy came closer, hands resting on the edge of her bed, his eyes bright with excitement as he looked Emma up and down.

"My name's Henry," he said, bouncing on his heels. He acted as if she shouldn't know who he was and Emma almost laughed. "Grandma told me that you came home when she tucked me in. She used to show me drawings of you and tell me stories, but she was always really sad so she stopped. Grandpa doesn't talk about you, he just gets angry."

Emma couldn't say anything, just stared at him, scooting backwards to sit up. She turned to her bedside table, grasping for matches and a candle. Setting both down, she lit the candle to give her more light; she wanted to see her son's face clearly. His teeth were small but he had a bright smile that lit up his whole face, brown eyes twinkling in the dark.

"Aunt Ruby told me that you ran away when I was a baby," he continued, climbing up onto the blankets. Emma tucked her feet under her and he mimicked the action, looking much smaller all folded together. He was very talkative, she noticed, something he had no doubt earned from his grandmother and not her.

"Yes, I did," she finally let out, face blank.

"I tried to run away when I was six but Grandpa caught me before I even left the stables. He made me do laundry with Ruby's Granny for a whole week. She made me wash all the maids' uniforms." Henry's nose crinkled at the memory and Emma chuckled. "Grandma was really upset. Grandpapa didn't say anything, but he only comes around a couple times a month."

"Rumplestiltskin?" Emma questioned, the boy nodding.

"He used to come to teach me magic, when I was little, but I don't have any. Not like you, anyway," Henry looked at her meekly.

"That's okay," Emma sighed. "Magic isn't that great. I can't do too much anymore."

"Blue makes magic, but that's good stuff. Grandpapa's magic isn't nice," he finished, thinking for a moment. "Did you run away because of Grandpapa's magic?"

Emma didn't exactly know how to answer the question; there were several different reasons she'd left the Enchanted Forest, her son one of them.

"A little, but it was mostly because I was scared," she told him, fingers fiddling with the blankets nervously. Neither spoke for a moment, the young boy chewing on his lip as he stared at her. He looked like her when he did that, his brow furrowing the slightest bit. It made her chest hurt to look at him.

Henry uncrossed his legs and crawled to her side, sliding his small arms around Emma. He felt too small against her, his soft hair tickling her face as she breathed him in. He smelled like her father, almost, but lacked the musky scent of a soldier. She hadn't been hugged like this in years and the feeling was foreign, the platonic closeness comforting. Henry squeezed her tight in his little embrace, resting his head against her shoulder as her arms came around him, Emma sniffling quietly.

"You don't have to be scared anymore."

* * *

David did indeed refresh Emma on her waltz, the kind king holding lessons each day until the ball. Unlike with her mother, Emma quite enjoyed her father's presence. He was overprotective and had a hard head, but he and Emma had a quiet understanding that Snow had never been able to replicate.

Emma knew in her heart that Snow would always mean well, but the woman put far too much pressure on her, right from the beginning of their relationship. Around her mother, Emma felt she had to be a perfect princess, the saviour, and so much else. She was never allowed to just be Emma, the girl who'd grown up in a wagon, lived in the forest, and been through so much more. Snow would never understand how Emma could wish for such a simple life.

The festival raged in the streets, vendors selling their wares on every corner, music blaring as dancers crowded the laneways. There were many girls in pretty dresses being courted around by their sweethearts, weaving flowers into their hair. It was heartwarming, Emma thought, as she walked through the village. Her mother had begged her to go be with her people for at least one day, and so she donned the circlet and a nice dress and went down with a few guards. Henry was with her, his small hand encased in hers.

It was foreign to feel like a mother, Emma constantly nervous that she would lose him whenever he let go of her hand to peruse toys or pet the animals. He had a small purse and everything he bought was tucked into a guard's sack. She watched him fondly as he hopped from stall to stall, his small face lighting up at each new treasure. They passed an old woman selling books and he spent over twenty minutes choosing the ones he wanted. A book of fairytales, a knight's textbook, and an atlas were all clutched protectively to his chest as they walked about and Emma felt pride. She had been so afraid that Henry would adopt everything that was bad in her, and yet he was perfect.

People mostly ignored her, half the villagers staring outright and the others giving her fleeting glances before shuffling past. The children seemed unaffected by her, but she noticed many a young girl whispering about Henry. She was sure many of them had long drawn out fantasies about marrying princes. She smiled to herself, following behind her dazed son.

The afternoon sun glared down on her party and the guards suggested they make their way back to the castle. Emma dreaded going back behind its walls, but would be glad to be away from all the stares. They had quieted down by the end of the day but it was still unsettling. The walk back helped to clear her mind of what the villagers must think of her.

Henry rambled on to his grandparents about all of his purchases once they reunited and Emma watched how her parents looked at Henry. There was so much love in their gaze that it hurt her heart to witness. They had looked at her like that once, too.

"Are you ready for the ball tonight, Emma?" Snow asked softly, Henry in her lap. Emma held back a grimace but nodded. "Your handmaids are already in your room, so we'll eat a quick supper and then all get ready."

"Do I get to go this time, Grandma?" Henry asked, clutching her skirt and pleading with his eyes.

"Yes, darling, for a little while, but your bedtime stays the same," she told him. The boy pouted slightly but was pleased nonetheless.

Dinner was quiet, thankfully, Emma swallowing each bite with dread. The closer they came to the next day the sooner she would see the Roger's crew executed. She wanted to have hope in Killian, wanted to believe that he had some grand plan that couldn't be fooled, but there was no way of knowing. She hugged Henry before making her way to her rooms, where six different maids flurried around her for two hours. At the beginning of the week they'd stuck her with pins and taken all her measurements to get a feel for how to dress her and Emma was grateful all she had to do tonight was let them make her up. It was nothing compared to anything she would have done to make herself look nicer for the tavern, the simple rouge and kohl she had owned abandoned months ago.

There were a variety of dresses to choose from, a yellow one with topaz gems sewn into the lace, various blue dresses, one that was an unholy shade of pink, and finally a gorgeous red one. Unlike the others, it had no decorations, the silk taffeta dyed a bright ruby colour. The skirt looked like it would take some work, but it was too beautiful to pass up.

The maids strapped her into the bodice, which detached from the skirt, Emma's breath completely taken out of her. She'd forgotten the unforgiving way that the royals tied corsets and Emma wondered if anyone would question if she did a few laps around the castle to break it in. A simple chignon and painted face came soon after, a couple pieces of jewelry accenting the bold dress, and she was ready. The contraption of a dress took a few moments to get used to, but it wasn't too hard to maneuver.

It was almost time to descend to the ballroom when the door opened without warning, startled gasps from several maids announcing the presence of Rumplestiltskin.

"Thank you, ladies," he dismissed them, each woman almost pressing themselves against the doorframe to put space between them and the sorcerer. Emma merely stood, hands fiddling with her skirt, waiting for the Dark One to begin speaking. He appraised her outfit, looking her form up and down before smirking slightly. "Glad to see you fitting in here, dearie."

Emma rolled her eyes, fingers still fidgeting.

"Glad to know you don't keep your promises, Rumple," she retorted, a brow raised, challenging him.

"We made no formal deals, Princess," he reminded, stepping farther into the room, tracing his hands across her bed curtains and jewelry. "His crew was destined to die; it should have happened three hundred years ago when his king sent them to Neverland for that damned plant." There was a bitterness in his voice as he spoke of Neverland, his sneer baring sharp teeth. "Having you back where you belong is good for us all, Emma, trust me."

"I heard you were a fan of trapping birds in cages," Emma said through grit teeth, Rumple's eyes flashing with both delight and anger.

"Come, dearie," he beckoned, holding out a decorated arm. "The pageantry awaits you."

* * *

It was both amazing and terrifying.

Her parents spent most of their time perched on their thrones, talking quietly to each other. Her mother would smile every so often and her father's laugh could be heard over the fairy orchestra that played tune after tune. There were endless beautiful men and women, some from different lands and others she recognized from another time. Many young princes stood in groups, surveying ladies in waiting and daughters of kings. Emma paid them no mind, wandering the ballroom aimlessly, eating a small treat every so often and gulping down each beverage she was given.

Rumplestiltskin sat in his own throne just off to the side, his maid behind him, looking toward the crowd with what Emma could only describe as longing. Emma watched as she fingered her simple blue frock, frowning at its frayed edges.

Most of the guests were too shy or too afraid to talk to her, but those that had known her beforehand nodded their hellos and continued to dance. It was lonely. She mostly watched Henry as he got lost among the large crowd, bouncing from friend to friend, eyes glazed over in awe as he talked to older princes or knights. People smiled fondly as he weaved his way through him, his brown mop sticking out of the swarm every so often. He was beautiful.

"I know you don't want this, Emma," she heard from beside her, starting as her father stepped to stand with her. He looked down at her with soft eyes, the sadness evident. "Your mother understands in her own way, that you'll never be a part of all this, though I doubt she'll stop trying to imagine you as her little princess."

"I haven't felt like a princess in a very long time, David," she responded quietly as he took her hand in his, sweeping her onto the dance floor. People let them pass, but they danced smoothly among the throng soon enough. She could see heads turning, ears hoping to catch some of their conversation. She followed her father's footsteps, letting him lead her as she had as a teenager.

"More a pirate, hmm?" David commented slyly, smirking as Emma's eyes bulged. "My long lost daughter comes back to my castle via the dungeon tunnels, subdues four guards, and lets an entire pirate crew loose. Had you been a prisoner aboard the Jolly Roger, I don't think you would have broken the captain of the guard's nose. It adds up, eventually. And makes sense as to why we could never find you, you were always moving."

"I've only been on the Roger for half a year," she told him. "I'm just very good at staying out of sight and traveling. It's the Swan in me."

David hummed, their conversation broken as he twirled her.

"We will love you no less if you leave again, Emma," he said after a moment, Emma's head on his shoulder. "I do not wish to keep you locked in here like some miserable storybook character. However, a letter every so often would be appreciated. By Henry, most of all."

Emma sighed, glad for the king's words. They danced for a few more songs, Emma's feet fumbling at the faster tempos, her father doing little to hide his laughter.

Henry found them eventually, shyly asking to dance with Emma. It was too endearing and hurt her heart a little, but Emma accepted, the small boy heads below her. She still allowed him to lead, her son ever the gentleman; he looked sharp in his evening wear, small gems accenting his collar. Emma wished, with some sadness, that Neal could be there to see how well the boy had done without either of them. She used to wonder, before she was married, what her life would have been like if her and Graham had stayed behind in Sherwood and raised a family, never going on their little adventure that caused his death.

Emma also wondered what their life could have been, had she brought Henry with her when she ran away. It was painful, to know him now after so many years away. There was a part of her that wished she had never come back; Killian's crew would be killed either way and she could have stayed away from the Enchanted Forest.

The dance ended, mother and son bowing to each other, Henry giving his mother a kiss before scampering off to his grandparents.

Emma watched him go with a sad smile, turning to leave the dance floor.

Before she could escape, a hand caught hers and spun her back into the haze of dancers, slower music twinkling into the air. She attempted to tug her arm free, opening her mouth to object to the manhandling, but before she could say anything her eyes met a familiar pair of blue.

"Hello, darling," Killian crooned, slipping his fake hand around her waist. "Good to see you."

Emma stayed silent, jaw dropped in surprise as Killian led her in a dance. He still looked like the pirate captain she knew, but his face was cleanly shaven and he had discarded the leather for a full black suit, his favoured red vest underneath the coat. Like all the other princes and knights, his sword was at his side. She knew he most likely had many other blades hidden on his body, but he looked exactly the part of a perfect prince. It made him quite handsome, but she found she preferred the dashing rapscallion to the prince.

"I'd dare say this is the first time I've rendered you speechless, Swan." He smirked, his gaze sweeping the surroundings. Nobody seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary, but Emma could feel her father's eyes, the king staring the couple down. "I would've come to you sooner, but the Crocodile's got his guards everywhere. Couldn't even find a place to stay in the bloody village. Thankfully Robin Hood was staying in town a few more days. He sends his hellos."

Emma looked up to the dais where Rumplestiltskin sat, but the sorcerer was occupied by his maid, who had a sour look on her face as the Dark One quipped orders at her.

"Do you have a plan?" She asked, still looking at her father in law.

"Always the romantic one, I see," Killian sighed, spinning her out of Rumplestiltskin's sight. "Figured I'd just confront the bastard and propose a duel. To the death, of course."

" _Your_ death, you mean?" She noted, incredulous. "The crew has been moved to outside cells in the gallows. They'll be executed at ten tomorrow morning, after the closing ceremonies. I can get them out and you can all escape, no deaths on your head. It will be easy enough to convince my father to let go of the Jolly Roger, or you can steal a navy ship."

"I'm not leaving here, princess, without killing that beast."

"And how do you think you're going to do that? Cut him open with his dagger and become the Dark One, Killian?" Emma asked in a furious whisper. "You can't win, not with his magic against you."

Killian was quiet for a moment, resting his forehead against Emma's as they swayed to the music.

"I can't leave this place without avenging Milah, Swan." His tone was heartbreaking and Emma exhaled heavily. "I don't care whether I die or not, as long as he goes with me."

"Let me help you," she begged, stopping to cup his face. "Please."

* * *

"How is it that you pirates steal anything with how ridiculously _loud_ you all are?" Emma hissed to Killian as they crept toward the gallows, where the crew was making even more of a ruckus than they had down in the dungeons. After all was said and done Emma was going to have a nice, quiet vacation with absolutely no schemes or yelling pirates. She'd sit out by the water and read for ages. Or sleep for eight weeks; she was unsure still.

"That dress is making far more noise than my men, Swan, I assure you," he responded in kind, giving her skirt a ruffle. Emma rolled her eyes, knowing full well that her outfit was becoming more and more cumbersome as they moved on. The fabric rustled against every surface, making their rescue attempt harder than needed. He stopped her before they broke through the courtyard, placing a knife in her hand. "I assume you know how to use that?"

"Are you forgetting how we met, Captain?" She asked, amused, gripping the knife firmly. Killian grinned madly, holding back a laugh. "There shouldn't be too many guards, most of them are focused up at the castle."

"I'll take the brunt of the guards, you focus on getting that lock open," Killian ordered, pulling his sword.

Emma shot him a look, unhappy that she was doing the easy work, but knew that fighting in her large dress with only a knife would be difficult enough.

Killian went first, surprising the first of four guards by cracking the hilt of his sword into his skull, the sound reverberating through the courtyard. Emma winced, but made her way towards the makeshift cells, that were really just cubes of iron bars. There were only two, the crew divided. There was one guard in front of both and Emma thanked all her gods that there was a key dangling from his belt, the metal gleaming against the dim torchlight.

There was a small _oof_ from somewhere in the courtyard and Emma coughed, covering up what was most likely Killian dismembering someone. The guard looked in her direction, hand going to his sword. He paused when he noticed the princess, body lowering into a bow. Emma sauntered over to him, a sweet smile on her face. She hid the knife between the folds of her dress.

"Hey there, soldier," she called, picking up her skirt and sidling up to him.

He grinned, chest puffing out as she stared up at him. They made small talk for a few moments, but a large crash made the guard turn his head. Emma mimicked Killian's earlier actions and pounded the guard's with the hilt of her blade. His legs crumpled under him and Emma whispered a small apology before freeing the keys from his side. Looking toward the noise, Emma noticed Killian duelling two different guards, and quickly made her way to the first cell.

"Happy to see me, boys?" She asked, sliding the key into the lock and turning it. It popped open and the pirates rushed forward to the door. "Whoa! You'll get yourself captured again. Take the rest of the crew and go to the royal docks. One of these keys might free the Jolly, but if not, you've got some work ahead of you."

"Thank you, mistress," a few grumbled somewhat sincerely, a crew member taking the keys from her and heading over to the second cell.

"What about the captain, Miss Swan?" Smee asked, the last to be free.

"He's got a plan. Well, half a plan," she added. Emma sighed. "Give him an hour. If he isn't down to the docks by then, go without him."

"Aye, milady," Smee agreed, following his fellow pirates in the direction of the docks. Emma would not see them hang, she hoped.

She turned to find Killian still in the heat of battle, but with only one guard this time, and she knew that he would win. Emma watched for a moment until he gave the final blow, slicing the guard's middle. Emma grimaced as the guard went down and apologized silently to her parents as Killian cleaned the blood from his sword. He huffed from exhaustion and then beckoned for her. She tucked the dagger into the top of her skirt, the blade uncomfortable between all the fabric.

"You have an hour to kill him before your crew departs," she told him, rushing to his side. They began their trek back up to the castle, the lights in the ballroom bright from below.

"Starting to think more and more like a pirate then, Swan?" Killian teased, panting.

Emma rolled her eyes at the comment, speeding up. She didn't miss Killian's smile as he matched her pace.

"How's your plan coming, then, pirate?" She asked as they entered the castle through a servants' doors. Several workers eyed her skeptically but she paid them no mind, steering Killian in the right direction. They reached the ballroom soon enough, the muffled music and chatter causing Emma's heart to speed. She peered in to find Rumplestiltskin in the exact same place, looking at the revelry with complete boredom.

"Duel. Possible death," he said, hand on his sword, angry eyes focused on the Dark One.

"I hate you."

"Doubtful, love."

* * *

 _Duel. Possible death._

 _Probable death._

If it weren't for the bleeding man in her arms, Emma would have ripped out the Dark One's throat by now.

The ongoing screams from the crowd didn't help to calm the princess down as she held Killian, his left arm badly sliced from Rumple's sword. The long cut began near his heart and ended close the stump, cutting through the leather brace and deep into the skin. There were guards all around, spears pointed toward her and the pirate, despite her father's desperate attempts to dissuade them. Rumple stared down at the pair with glee, hands itching to crush their hearts. It had been less than ten minutes before he was able to subdue the pirate and outwit him.

Emma had her hands pressed against as much of the wound as possible, trying to stem the flow of blood that was leaking out of the unconscious man. It soaked her dress, the two different reds mingling together, causing Emma's heart to pound harder than ever. Killian was a stupid, stupid man, she conceded. A brave, stupid man, who was dying on top of her and there was nothing she could do.

"What a foolish wimp," the Dark One spat, throwing his sword to the side. "You'd best let him be, dearie, or my guards may miss when they go for the kill."

"I won't leave him. Never," Emma growled, hands tightening around her pirate. "Kill us both."

She could hear her parents shouting their disagreement, but her eyes were trained on the sorcerer in front. The crowd emitted gasps, most members of the court flush with the wall. Henry had been whisked away when the duel began, the young prince carried to safety by Ruby as he called for his mother and grandparents. Emma was glad he wouldn't be here to see her die. It was something she didn't quite wish on anyone.

There were sobs coming from several people in the room, the chorus of whispers annoying Emma.

Behind her were several shouts and clangs of metal, Emma noticing out of the corner of her eye that the spears that had been trained on her disappeared. She turned her head to find a group of crewmen taking care of the guards. They all lay in a heap on the floor, the pirates' eyes gleaming at their triumph. Rumple's snicker could be heard through the entire ballroom, but Emma ignored him as she helped lift Killian into their waiting arms.

"Good to know some of you don't listen to orders," she said in a hushed tone. Emma kissed Killian's forehead, bloody hands smoothing his hair back. There was a gruff response from the men before they carried their captain away, his blood leaving a trail on the floor. "Keep him safe," she whispered to no one.

"He'll never be safe from me, dearie."

"Go to hell," Emma said quietly, back still turned.

In a matter of seconds, Rumple was in front of her, hand outstretched to her.

"Give me one good reason not to, princess," he bit out, talons curling into her skin.

"Here's one," Emma growled, hand thrusting forward into the Dark One's chest.

* * *

Light. All she remembers is blinding light. Yellow, gold, silver, green; every colour streaming from her chest and Rumplestiltskin's.

She hadn't felt any pain, only warmth from her fingertips and heaving chest.

Rumplestiltskin had tugged at her heart, hand grasping it and pulling roughly, but Emma's chest would not break, would not let him take it. She'd almost laughed in her face, her own hand clamping down on his heart. She pulled it out of him, the organ blackened and faintly beating, and watched as his face fell, his life in her palm.

His grip loosened and his hand fell away, landing limp at his side. He looked tremendously weak in that moment, almost like the man he must have been, once.

"I'm tired of you hurting my family," Emma said, her other hand coming to cup the heart. She dug her nails into the dark flesh and tore it apart, the light becoming even more intense as she ripped the heart into nothing, black dust pouring from her hands. There was one last flicker of fear on Rumplestiltskin's face before he crumpled, his body falling with a thud against the marble floor. The bronze colour left his skin, leaving behind an old man with no talons or lizard eyes. He was merely a dead human.

A scream pierced through the quiet hall, the magic finally dying away and leaving Emma's eyes dazed.

Rumplestiltskin's maid flew across the room, joining the dead man on the floor, sobbing as she took him in her arms. Emma pitied her in that moment, but said nothing, leaving the woman to grieve the sorcerer. She looked around, a look of surprise and relief on the majority of the crowd's faces. Her parents were frozen in shock on their dais, and they locked eyes with Emma, questions in their gaze.

The truth was, Emma had no idea that it would work, destroying Rumplestiltskin's heart. All the legends foretold that he could only die by his own dagger, but the legends never expected the product of true love. She sighed, exhausted from the magical exertion.

Emma mused that she'd killed too many powerful magic users in her short life. Maybe it was time to stop. Or in another ten years she'd find the most fearsome and challenge them, she didn't know. She was too tired to think of any future as the saviour, or even any present, for that matter. All she could think of was her pirate.

And so she ran.

* * *

She wouldn't get to the docks any time soon by just running, so Emma made her way quickly to the stables, lifting her skirts to a height that would probably make a few royals faint. If the corset wasn't constricting enough, Emma was ready to kick off her heels; her toes were getting squished, but she didn't trust herself not to slip on the marble floors. If she had though the castle was too large, it definitely was when she was trying to make a quick escape down many flights of stairs. She was a little skeptical of her skill to ride a horse while in a full dress and undergarments, but she figured she'd get to that part of the plan once she was in the stables.

Before she made her way fully out of the castle, she heard the patter of small feet behind her, Henry quickly coming to her side.

"Henry!" She gasped, still running. "You need to go back to your room. Isn't it your bed time?"

"Bedtimes don't count during missions!" He replied, breathless and exhilarated.

"I wasn't aware I was part of one," Emma grumbled, crossing through a courtyard. The stables were in sight, lanterns lighting its windows.

"I thought of a name, too. Operation Siren sounds good," Henry informed her, opening the door for his mother. "Y'know, cause you're in love with a pirate? Grandma had a mermaid friend once."

"You know far too much."

"I eavesdrop. Grandma and Grandpa suck at talking quietly, and keeping me in my room, too." Henry laughed. He patted all the horses, but stopped at a white mare. "This is my horse, Cecilia. She's fast."

"Fast is good, kid. You know your way to the docks?" Emma asked, feeling like all her time was running out.

"Yup!"

Emma looked down at her skirt, groaning in frustration at its size.

"Do the stable boys keep any breeches down here?" She glanced around, trying to see if there were any spare outfits hanging somewhere.

Henry scampered off to one end of the stable, coming back with a brown pair of pants. Emma reached under her skirt and slipped them on, frowning at the awkwardness of all the layers. She was glad in that moment that the skirt detached from the corset, ripping the parts from each other quickly. She didn't want to leave such a gorgeous outfit in the dirty stables, but she doubted the taking the skirt with her would give the horse any more speed.

"Alright, apologize to your grandparents for me and tell them you came by yourself. It wasn't my idea. Deal?" Emma reasoned, lifting the boy up onto his horse. Forgoing the saddle, she simply attached the reigns and swung herself up onto Cecilia, nudging the mare's backside. "Lead us on, kid."

"This is the coolest thing I've ever done!" He yelled, urging the horse to go faster, directing it toward the docks. Emma laughed nervously at her son, heart warming a little.

Emma wasn't fond of the idea of leaving the boy to ride back to the castle in the dark, but there were bound to be guards at the royal docks that would take care of him. He seemed smart enough not to get himself killed; she had faith in the kid. Emma would miss him, despite knowing him for only a week. He was good. Everything Emma wasn't and she was proud to have met him after all these years.

"Thank you, Henry," she said to him as they broke through the tree line.

"You're welcome, ma," he replied, smiling back at Emma. She pressed a kiss to his hair, eyes searching the docks for her ship.

Luckily, the Jolly Roger was still docked. She could see the crewmen setting the sails by candle light, the pirates swinging about the shift. The cabin was lit with candlelight, shadows dancing through the windows. She could make out Smee's round form and a couple others. She took the reigns from Henry and led the horse onto the wooden docks, stopping in front of the ship's plank.

"Alright, here's where I get off, kid," Emma said, hopping off the horse. Landing on her heels wasn't the most graceful, but Emma was past caring.

She looked up at Henry, his small face lit with excitement.

"It was so lovely to meet you, Henry. You're an amazing boy," Emma told him, taking his hands. "Don't cause your grandparents too much trouble. I promise to write this time."

"Operation Siren, complete," he said, smiling.

"You bet, kid."

Emma reached up and hugged him tight, pulling back after a couple seconds. She pressed another kiss to his cheeks, looking at him one last time before racing up the Roger's plank. She waved to all the crewmen who had dopey smiles on their faces, taking the stairs to the helm two at a time, throwing back the hatch to the cabin and jumping down the ladder. Below she found Smee, the cook, and Killian. The third man was sprawled out on the bed, moaning in pain. He looked too pale and Emma came to his side, hands cupping his face.

"Killian," she almost shouted, his blue eyes barely open. An eyebrow quirked at her voice, his head moving slightly. "Killian, it's Emma."

"Glad we at least had a dance, love," he coughed out, wincing.

Emma looked at his swollen arm. It had thankfully stopped bleeding, but she suspected it was because the circulation was gone. Without thinking, she placed her hands on his wounded arm and closed her eyes. She could hear the other men gasp and her fingertips felt warm. Underneath her, Killian's chest heaved, the pirate gasping a breath in.

"Emma," he said more clearly, surprised.

She cracked an eye open, finding his fully open and bright.

"Hi," she said sheepishly.

"Hello, love."

"Still looking for a pirate queen?" Emma asked, laughing as tears wet her eyes.

"No," he smirked. "Just a barmaid."

Emma rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of her life as Killian snaked his good hand around her head, pulling her in for a kiss.

* * *

 _Henry,_

 _Oz was eventful. The Wizard attempted to kidnap me and Killian pushed him off a building. The Wicked Witch is a bitch, and not as green as everyone thinks. Hope knight training is going well and that you've mastered the broad sword. Don't let your Grandpa try and duel you, I think you'll break him now. Don't tell him I said that._

 _There's a couple gifts in the pouch for you all. Ruby and your Grandma can fight over which jewels they want (I promise they were purchased fully legally and that Killian did not lift them off somebody). The book is for you. An old guy named August made it, with all your favourite stories. Even ours. I hope it didn't get too banged up on its way to you._

 _I love you and hope to see you soon,_

 _Emma_

 _P.S. Your sister says hello._

* * *

 **THE END**

* * *

and we're done!

thanks for sticking with me, guys.

hope you enjoyed the ending and that you're satisfied with the story. it's been an adventure to write.

the support i've been given over the past two months has been really lovely, thank you so much for all that you've given me. mwah.


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